"_De votre aspect riant charmer ma souvenance_!" Here Mdlle. Rosalie struck a wrong chord, became involved in hopeless difficulties, and gasped audibly. Monsieur Philomène darted a withering glance at her, and went on:-- "_Mon coeur; mon pauvre coeur_" ... More wrong chords, and a smothered "_mille pardons_!" from Mdlle. Rosalie. "_Mon coeur, mon pauvre coeur a la tristesse en proie, En fouillant le passé"...._ A dead stop on the part of Mdlle. Rosalie. _"En fouillant le passé_".... repeated the tenor, with the utmost severity of emphasis. "_Mais, mon Dieu_, Rosalie! what are you doing?" cried Madame Desjardins, angrily. "Why don't you go on?" Mdlle. Rosalie burst into a flood of tears. "I--I can't!" she sobbed. "It's so--so very difficult--and"... Madame Desjardins flung up her hands in despair. "_Ciel_!" she cried, "and I have been paying three francs a lesson for you, Mademoiselle, twice a week for the last six years!" "_Mais, maman_".... "_Fi done_, Mademoiselle! I am ashamed of you. Make a curtsey to Monsieur Philomène this moment, and beg his pardon; for you have spoiled his beautiful song!" But Monsieur Philomène would hear of no such expiation. His soul, to use his own eloquent language, recoiled from it with horror! The accompaniment, _à vrai dire_, was not easy, and _la bien aimable_ Mam'selle Rosalie had most kindly done her best with it. _Allons donc!_--on condition that no more should be said on the subject, Monsieur Philomène would volunteer to sing a little unaccompanied romance of his own composition--a mere _bagatelle_; but a tribute to "_les beaux yeux de ces chères dames_!" So Mam'selle Rosalie wiped away her tears, and Madame Desjardins smoothed her ruffled feathers, and Monsieur Philomène warbled a plaintive little ditty in which "_coeur_" rhymed to "_peur_" and "_amours_" to "_toujours_" and "_le sort_" to "_la mort_" in quite the usual way; so giving great satisfaction to all present, but most, perhaps, to himself. And now, hospitably anxious that each of her guests should have a chance of achieving distinction, Madame Marotte invited Mdlle. Honoria to favor the company with a dramatic recitation. Mdlle. Honoria hesitated; exchanged glances with the Cyclops; and, in order to enhance the value of her performance, began raising all kinds of difficulties. There was no stage, for instance; and there were no footlights; but M. Dorinet met these objections by proposing to range all the seats at one end of the room, and to divide the stage off by a row of lighted candles. "But it is so difficult to render a dramatic scene without an interlocutor!" said the young lady. "What is it you require, _ma chère demoiselle?_" asked Madame Marotte. "I have no interlocutor," said Mdlle. Honoria. "No what, my love?" "No interlocutor," repeated Mdlle. Honoria, at the top of her voice.